Wishing Too Late
by JustMakeLeftTurns
Summary: They wouldn't call him weak anymore. They wouldn't have to look out for him, a little sparkling, anymore. Rated for character death and suicide.


Summary: They wouldn't call him weak anymore. They wouldn't have to look out for him, a little sparkling, anymore. Rated for character death and suicide.

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

**I wrote this based on a true story. My thoughts are closer to Mirage's, later on in the story. Dedicated to my more-than-acquaintance, less-than-friend. R.I.P. 1/29/11**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.**

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Bumblebee sat in the rec room, drinking his energon. Hound and Mirage were in the corner. The minibots were talking loudly. Occasionally, Cliffjumper sneered over in his direction. Bumblebee just looked away, pretending it hadn't bothered him.

But the fact was, it had. For whatever reason, the minibots had decided that Bumblebee was going to be the running joke of the group. Maybe it was because he was the shortest, maybe it was because he spent more time around Spike and the other humans than the rest of them did. It didn't matter what the reason was. It still hurt Bumblebee deeply, although he made sure not to show it.

What would the officers say if they found out that Bumblebee couldn't handle a little bullying? They'd call him weak, he was sure of it. Or they'd tell him to fight his own battles, or something along those lines. What autobot couldn't handle being picked on?

Bumblebee had also just gained some respect among the autobots as well. For vorns, they'd treat him like a sparkling, simply because he was the youngest. Before, they'd always thought he couldn't handle himself because of his height.

'Bee finished his energon cube and stood up, planning on going to the washracks before going out on patrol. He made his way into the hallway. He was almost at the washracks when he heard a voice call out to him.

"Hey, Bumblebee!" Cliffjumper shouted.

Bumblebee hesitated before turning to the red minibot. He looked past Cliffjumper to see Brawn and Gears. Bumblebee shifted a little on his peds, refusing to meet the other minibots' gaze.

"We heard you're supposed to be on patrol," Brawn smirked.

"I'm leaving after I go to the washracks," Bumblebee replied softly. He hoped that they would let him go, just this once.

"Oh, really?" Gears spoke up. "Well, _I _didn't need to go in the washracks before patrol. Why should _you_?"

Bumblebee decided it was best not to answer. He never knew what to say in situations like this. He always seemed to say the wrong thing.

"Yeah, so how 'bout you go along on patrol now?" Cliffjumper's voice left no room for argument. Bumblebee was afraid what would happen if he refused. Instead, he continued looking at the ground.

"Hey, didn't you hear what we said?" Brawn raised a fist slightly. He didn't step forward, but Bumblebee knew a threat when he saw one.

Bumblebee walked past the three minibots, refusing to say a word. He heard them laughing at his back on his way outside. He wanted to tell Prime, or Jazz, but he didn't want to seem like a little sparkling, running to his Creators – although they weren't really his Creators – about some stupid little thing. Bumblebee transformed, racing out into the desert.

He couldn't remember when the bullying had started. It had been happening for as long as he could remember. If anybot knew what was going on in the Ark, they didn't say anything. Although Bumblebee doubted that anybot would want to help him.

He was useless. He was the youngest and the shortest minibot. Why should they care?

For orns, Bumblebee had been feeling like the autobots didn't need him. He was only a scout. Mirage and Jazz could handle it. And who would miss a minibot? The minibot who was always getting into trouble, always getting into situations that he couldn't handle.

Bumblebee braked. He was in the middle of nowhere, and several miles from the Ark. He could just do it, get it over with. No one would find him until he didn't check in with Teletraan. He wouldn't have to worry about Cliffjumper and the other minibots.

The yellow minibot transformed and pulled out a Cybertronian gun from his subspace. He held the weapon to his spark chamber, shuttering his optics. They wouldn't call him weak anymore. They wouldn't have to look out for him, a little sparkling, anymore.

But first …

_/You were always my friend, Bluestreak. Never forget that./ _Bumblebee sent one last message over the com. link.

As he pulled the trigger, Bumblebee saw systems warnings flash before everything when dark.

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Bluestreak was chatting nonstop – as usual – to Ratchet as the medibot repaired his leg strut, which had been injured in a prank-gone-wrong by the twins. Ratchet's patience was thin. As kind as the gray autobot was, his constant talking quickly annoyed Ratchet.

Bluestreak was abruptly cut off when a wrench bounced off his helm with a clang. At Ratchet's stony look, he refrained from speaking anymore … For about thirty seconds, which, for Bluestreak, was a record in itself.

However, Bluestreak was again cut off, this time by a transmission coming through his com. link.

_/You were always my friend, Bluestreak. Never forget that./_

_/Bumblebee?/ _Bluestreak questioned, but the mech received no response. Spark racing, Bluestreak looked at Ratchet, who had completed fixing his leg strut.

"Ratchet, I think something's wrong with Bumblebee," Bluestreak said. "I just got a message from him, but not an ordinary message. It sounded more like a goodbye, y'know? And Bumblebee just sounded so depressed, or sad, or something. I don't know why he sounded like that. He never does. He's always so cheerful. But –" _CLANG!_

"Now, what is this about Bumblebee?" Ratchet demanded. Bluestreak repeated the message.

"Slag! You're right, it _does _sound off, especially for Bumblebee," Ratchet agreed. He contacted Optimus through his com. link.

_/Optimus, it's Ratchet. We may have a situation./_

_/What is it, Ratchet?/_

_/Bluestreak has just received a transmission from Bumblebee. It certainly sounds like the fragger's going to do something stupid./_

_/Something stupid?/_

_/…I believe Bumblebee may attempt to offline himself./_

_/Alright. I'm sending you, Bluestreak, and Ironhide to Bumblebee's last known location./_

_/Understood./ _Ratchet ended the connection. He turned to Bluestreak, who looked extremely worried for his friend.

"Come on, slagger. We've got a minibot to find." Ratchet led the way out of the med bay, Bluestreak close behind.

The two met up with Ironhide in front of the Ark. They all transformed and sped off. None of them spoke, afraid of what they might hear in return.

Awhile later, the autobots saw what was unmistakably the body of their comrade. Bluestreak sped ahead, transforming quickly. He choked back a sob, kneeling beside his friend.

"'Bee … Why …?"

Ratchet and Ironhide drove up. Ratchet transformed first, yelling at Bluestreak to get out of the way. Ironhide transformed and stood beside them.

"Aww, kid, why'd ya do it?" Ironhide muttered.

"Can you save him? Please tell me you can save him. He's not offline! He can't be!" Bluestreak cried. Ratchet only sighed, clenching his servos. Why Bumblebee … He was so young, barely out of sparklinghood. Ratchet wished he could do something, _anything_. He was a medibot, he should do something!

But Ratchet knew that Bumblebee was long offline. There was no bringing him back.

Mirage was one of the last to know the news. He'd heard it from Hound. Mirage excused himself and went off to his quarters. He needed some time alone.

He was never close to Bumblebee, he knew that. But he and 'Bee were more than simple acquaintances. They weren't exactly friends, either. They'd talked sometimes, but not often.

But still. The news of Bumblebee's deactivation hit him hard. Alone and away from everybot else, the Towers mech cried to himself. He wondered if there could have anything to help save Bumblebee. Maybe if he had talked to the minibot more? Or if he'd noticed what was going on? He was part of Special Ops. He should have noticed that something wasn't right with Bumblebee.

Prowl had done an investigation. He, with the help of Red Alert, had discovered many sequences of bullying on camera. It seemed as if Bumblebee had been an outcast among the minibots … But why couldn't he have gone to somebot? _Any_bot?

Mirage wished that he could have helped. Of course, he wasn't the most approachable mech, with his more stand-offish attitude, but still.

It was too late. Wishing wasn't going to bring Bumblebee back.

But he wished it did.

**Wishing Too Late**

Was there something I could've done

If my eyes had not been blinded

Behind my naivety, my innocence,

My hope that everything was alright?

Could I have saved his life

If I'd talked to him more

Instead of allowing myself to drift away

When the chance showed itself?

I didn't know him that well

But I feel like I did

Because I saw his face everyday

And knew his name.

Didn't know what was going on,

Didn't see past his façade,

Thought everything was fine,

Wish it had been.

I'm broken.

I'm torn.

And I don't know how to

Free myself from this pain.

I'm not going to fall,

But I'll try to smile,

For him,

For I know he'd want that.

I can't say that.

I wish I could.

Didn't know him enough.

Wish I did.

Wishing.

That's all it is.

I can't do anything.

Because it's

Too

L . A . T . E

**Stop the Bullying, Stop the Pain.**

**Bullying is serious. If you have a problem with bullying, talk to an adult, or at least a friend. Don't be like Bumblebee.**

**The poem is written by me. It is mine. DO NOT use it without my permission.**


End file.
